Thursday, May 28, 2015

Meet Aunt Clara- Three Days Until Witness Protection is Re-Released!

Logan James was raised by his Aunt Clara after a devastating loss of his own parents as a preteen. His twin cousins Kaiden and Keegan are like brothers to him and despite the trauma of his youth, he was raised well and is very close to his family. When he and Angelina need somewhere safe to lay low while they figure out who is trying to kill her, Logan takes Angelina to his Aunt Clara's place in the mountains. Aunt Clara is a crack shot who says whatever is on her mind and always calls it like she sees it...

"This place belongs to your aunt?" Angelina said in disbelief.

"Sure does. After my uncle died, she inherited a tidy sum of family money that she held onto. Once the three of us boys were out of school and out on our own, she moved to this mountain. You are now looking at a large chunk of that inheritance."

 Angelina opened the door of the Jeep and gingerly stepped down from the cab. Logan made a note to find her some shoes as soon as they were settled. Aunt Clara had to have something she could use.

Suddenly the door to the cabin flew open. A little woman with a very big rifle jumped through the door yelling at the top of her lungs. "Get down on the ground! I ain't afraid to use this thing! Get down!"

The woman waved the gun wildly in the air. Angelina dropped to her knees even as Logan took a step forward, laughing.

 "Aunt Clara! It's me, Logan!"

The little woman stopped yelling the instant she heard Logan's voice. With a hand held above her eyes to block out what little sun made its way through the trees, she called out, "Logan? What are you doing here?"

"Where are your glasses, Aunt Clara?" He was still laughing as he crossed the clearing between them and grabbed his slight-figured aunt up in a bear hug.

"Well, you know I got no patience for those things, boy. They just keep sliding down off my nose."

 Logan laughed again. His aunt was his favorite person in the world. After the death of his mother, she was the only adult left in his life he felt that he could trust. He still felt that way.

"If you had them on you might not have come so close to shooting us!" He gestured to Angelina who was pulling herself up off the ground, disdain clouding her features. Logan frowned. The last twenty-four hours had been more of a trial for her than any one human being should have to go through. It was time to get her settled and figure out a way to get her out of this mess without endangering her life any further.

 Walking back to where Angelina leaned against the Jeep watching them warily, Logan took her hand and gently led her to the cabin steps where his aunt stood squinting at them.

 "Angelina Ferrara, meet my aunt, Clara James"

 "Nice to meet you, Ms. James." Angelina reached out to shake the older woman's hand, but Clara grabbed her up in the same sort of bear hug he'd greeted his aunt with. Logan watched with amusement.

"Oh, posh! Call me Clara, will you! No formalities around this here place." She gestured toward the cabin behind her. "Come, let's get you inside, dear. Whatever happened to your shoes?" Clara gave her the once over from head to toe. "Hmmm...I may not have my glasses on, Logan, but isn't that the shirt I gave you for your birthday? I definitely think we all need to sit down with some hot breakfast and have a long talk."
Aunt Clara had always been insightful. Of course, him showing up with a woman she knew nothing 

of wearing his clothes and shoeless probably would have set off warning bells in anyone's head, no 

matter how clear their vision.

Get More Aunt Clara on May 31, 2015!


Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Countdown to Witness Protection...5 Days and Counting

Due to the closing of its publisher, Witness Protection has been on sabbatical.

I am excited to announce that Logan and Angelina will find love once more May 31, 2015 sporting a new cover and a new price! 

Swing by on Sunday to check out the new look of Witness Protection!

Friday, May 22, 2015

Time To Heat Up Your Summer!

To kick off the Memorial Day weekend and the traditional start of summer here on the mid-atlantic coast, check out this steamy read Taken Identity by Raven McAllan.  Her books are perfect summer beach reads and I promise you won't be disappointed!

Thank you for offering to host me on your blog today. Even though this is all about someone stealing your identity I promise I won't steal yours. (I may use your name in a book though.)

When the devastatingly handsome Gray turns up on her doorstep looking for his wife, and calling said wife by Jules name, Jules wondered briefly if she'd landed in an alternative universe. She knows she's not his wife, and so does he. But apparently someone with her name and history is.
Is it a case of coincidence or did his missing wife 'borrow' Jules' life?
Even though the dominant Gray sends her knickers aflame with just one look, with a missing wife in the equation, Jules knows there's no chance of finding out what else he could achieve.
There's only one thing to do—unravel the mystery and try and keep their hands off each other in the meantime. The first may well prove far easier than the latter.

A wee tease…

“Well, Mr Reynard.” She spoke in a brisk fashion, as she did her best to emulate his tone and pace and show none of the tension he invoked in her. Unfortunately—and no doubt he’d see it as a weakness—she had to squint slightly to bring him into focus. It wouldn’t be a pretty look. She’d taken enough selfies sans glasses or contacts to know that. She peered at him closely to bring him into focus. “So, how may I help you?”
Even without twenty-twenty vision, Jules was now close enough to see and decide the glance he gave her was along the lines of one you might give a not very bright child. She gritted her teeth, determined to show nothing of how she felt. Which was like a particularly unpleasant bug under a microscope.
“Well?” she prompted him in as pleasant a voice as she could manage. When she’d gone to answer the door, Jules hadn’t had time to put her shoes on and the old stone floor of the cottage’s hallway wasn’t warm. It would have been oh so easy to shiver, except she thought it would project a wrong image. She was not scared. Allegedly.
“I wish to speak to Julia Frayne.”
Sheesh, is he a robot or something? Stuck on one sentence? “You are speaking to Julia Frayne. Oh, for fucks sake, hold on a sec.” She remembered her old glasses, the ones she wore for gardening, were in her jacket pocket and if she stretched out, she should be able to reach them.
She managed and shoved them on her nose. All her suppositions were correct. A tall, dark, dangerous sex on legs specimen of manhood was filling her doorway. A very pissed off one.
The expression on his face would have frozen molten lava. Even more now, she wished she was wearing fuzzy slippers and a warm jumper. The look as well as the nip in the air didn’t make her feel comfortable in her thin, strappy and long, floaty skirt. Julia risked a brief glance downward and groaned inwardly. Just as she thought, her nipples had responded to the chilly atmosphere and pushed at the silky material covering them. Even though she was getting mighty sick of the guy, one of Miss McMurty’s expressions floated into her brain and she gave a stifled laugh. Sticking out like hat pegs, lovey. She crossed her arms over her chest and ignored the fact she was annoyed that her action looked defensive.
“You think something I’ve said is funny?” he asked with a frown on his face. “I beg to differ. This is no laughing matter. Impersonating someone—or purporting not to know what I’m referring to—isn’t something to smirk about. You are not Julia Frayne. And neither are you pregnant.”
Jules knew her jaw dropped, and she stood and stared at him, mouth open. At last, she found her voice.
“Half correct,” she said, pleased her tone was almost as frosty as his. “I can assure you, I am most certainly the former, and have been for close to thirty years. Equally, I am certain I am not the latter.”
For goodness sake, she thought in disgust, I sound like his clone with a stick up my ass. Very proper!
“Prove it,” he said.
The challenging tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright, and Jules lost her temper. It was a rare occurrence, but when it happened, friends and relatives knew to duck. As her parents had often said, she lived up to the red-haired virago scenario when necessary.
“Certainly. I’ll fetch my passport.” She slammed the door shut, obviously taking him by surprise, as he made no move to stop her. Damn it, I wish I’d trapped his balls in there. Or at least his toes. Arrogant ass.
The doorbell rang almost immediately, seemingly invested with his impatience. Jules grinned to herself. She’d bet his finger was jammed on the buzzer, and it would stay there until she reopened the door. Let it, she had more things to worry about—like who the hell was he looking for? The bell began to ring in short staccato buzzes. Well, Mr Whoever-you-are Reynard, you can bloody well wait, Buzz Colonel Bogey and whistle, and if you hurt your finger, well, tough. I’m putting my lenses in before I face you again. In addition, I’ll maybe just wave my passport through the window.
It only took a few minutes for her to put in contact lenses, swipe the mascara brush over her pale eyelashes—she really must remember to book an appointment to get them re-dyed—retrieve her passport from a drawer and return to the front door. Nevertheless, in the short time she was away, the noise of the doorbell continued non-stop. At this rate, the battery will stop before he does, she mused, as she stopped in front of the mirror and checked just what her uninvited caller might see when he looked at her.
Typically Celt, she thought ruefully as she eyed her red corkscrew curls, green eyes, pale skin that never tanned properly and the myriad of freckles sprinkled over her nose. Never was she going to be a page three girl—Thank goodness. But, as her mother used to say, “What you’ve got is all yours!” Her strappy vest was now covered with a long, fluffy jumper, and her feet had striped socks on. Not haute couture but warm and serviceable.
Jules checked that her dad’s old, sturdy golf umbrella was tucked away in its usual place in the hallway—for poking her visitor, if need be—then slipped the chain on before she opened the door as far as the security measure allowed. A foot immediately inserted itself into the gap.
“Congratulations,” Jules said sarcastically. “A bit slow last time, weren’t you? But be warned, Mr Reynard, that’s as far as you’ll get. An expert fixed this chain. Now, if you look to the window on your right, I’ll show you my passport.”
Jules could almost hear his teeth grinding. Too bad. She had no intention of handing her passport to a stranger. For any reason. She moved to the side of the door where a small window brought a little more natural light into her otherwise darkish hallway and pressed the photograph page of her passport to the glass. Her—what? Intruder? Unwanted visitor? —moved slightly, without taking his foot from the door opening and leaned toward the glass. After long seconds, he stood back with a bewildered expression. He blinked, and tiny lines radiated out from the corners of his eyes. Then he shook his head.
“Ah…” he stopped speaking and shrugged.
“Satisfied?” Try as she might, Jules couldn’t keep the satisfied note out of her voice. “I, Mr Reynard, am I! Julia Frances Frayne. Spinster of this parish. Do you need anything else?”
“Yes, actually. I want my wife. Julia Frayne.”
If that has interested you, here's the buy links

Thanks for reading,

Love Raven x         

Raven Bio…

Well what can I say?

I'm growing old disgracefully and loving it.
Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.
Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.
I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I'm often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I'm not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.
Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.


And...I'm Back!

Please Excuse the long absence. Upon the closing of my publisher, I needed to take some time to regroup and establish a new plan. Stay tuned this weekend for re-release information as well as a sneak peak at a brand new release coming this summer!